In the Black
by Jess Readin
Summary: Serenity picks up some new cargo. She found a family without the bond of blood. AU OC.
1. Meetings

Disclaimer: I do not own Firefly. Joss Whedon is the rocken-est.

A/N: This fic is purely for my own amusement, and the amusement of a friend of mine. It will basically be short chapters(much, much shorter than this one) ranging from moments in the series, to the movie, and beyond. The fic contains an OC. Patients allergic to OCs strongly cautioned. Please read responsibly. --J.R.

* * *

Malcolm Reynolds was on a central planet. A _central planet!_ What was he doing on a central planet?

A job.

A successfully completed job.

Now all he, Zoe, and Jayne had to do was get back to the ship without causing any due fussing about their presence on Beylix.

Things were never simple.

Six years after the war and Mal was doing a job on a central planet for some man named Badger.

His first mate Zoe was alert, as the hardened warrior woman was most of the time. Jayne, _Serenity's_ mercenary, was casually sauntering along beside them.

_Serenity_ was the ship. Mal's ship. Right now, Mal would have given anything to be there instead of leading part of his crew down a central planet's streets.

Mal led them down a lane that was lined with low to the ground iron fencing. He realized that only one side of the street was lined with the fence, and that it wasn't the street that was lined, but a small lot with Alliance soldiers moving up and down the ground in front of a large, stately building.

Things were never simple.

Mal looked on curiously, for he had just realized that there were only a few fully-grown soldiers stationed outside the building. The rest were _kids_. Children to teenagers, it looked like.

"I recognize this," said Zoë quietly, "Alliance orphanage. Take kids who lost their parents in the war and train 'em to be soldiers. Brainwashing at an early age. How pleasant."

Mal felt sick. The sooner they were back on board _Serenity_ the better.

The children and soldiers were looking intently at Mal, Zoë, and Jayne. Though, only one was deliberately trying to make eye contact.

A teen aged girl. Pressed blue Alliance uniform gleaming in the central planet sun, she walked quickly over to them.

Mal nudged Zoë, who in turn, nudged Jayne. The three sped up fast but were stopped when the clear and commanding voice rang out.

"Halt!"

Mal cringed and turned, facing the girl who stood before him so straight and tall. Wasn't natural for kids to have their backs that straight.

She inspected them for a moment and seemed to decide something. Her face fell from lawful Alliance to scared child in one second flat.

"Please, I need help. If you can, get me out."

One of the adult soldiers had come marching over. "What's the problem, Tedesco?"

The name hit Mal and Zoë like a knife in the gut, and they barely had time to recover before the girl was speaking again, her professional-tones intact once more.

"Littering." Responded the girl; "I recommend letting them off with a warning. At most, fining them a small amount."

Mal was confused for a moment, and then Zoë nudged him in the side and indicated downward.

"Must've fallen out of my pocket. Sorry 'bout that." Mal managed to say through gritted teeth. He bent low and picked up an envelope. Mal was very sure it had not come out of his pocket.

"Very well. Make sure it doesn't happen again." Said the soldier before dismissing the girl named Tedesco back to her post.

"What's wrong with you two?" growled Jayne, "Look like ya've seen a ghost or somethin'."

Zoë took the liberty of answering him, "Tedesco was the name of a fellow Independent soldier, back in the war. He wasn't of the 57th, but we fought with him on Hera."

"So?" grunted Jayne.

"He was shot in the face."

Jayne grunted without remorse. "You think the girl's related to him or somethin'?"

"I know it." Stated Mal, opening the envelope. "Jim was always braggin' 'bout his little girl. How she was such a good shot with a pistol. Never did believe him, told us she was only nine at the time. Said that he wanted to teach her to defend herself early. 'Case he didn't make it back. Nine-year-old girl with a pistol. Still don't believe it."

Zoë looked over to the girl, who was standing back at her post by the building.

"She's the right age. Should be fifteen."

Mal was unfolding a sheaf of paper, which had been stuffed into the envelope. Zoë and Jayne walked around behind him to read over his shoulder.

_If you're holding this, it either means you look like someone I can trust or I just screwed up big time._

_Hopefully, it's the first one._

_I need to get out of here. I don't want to be Alliance._

_If you choose to help me then thank you. If you don't that's fine, too. There'll be others._

_But, if you do decide to help me, I have a plan. _

_Do you have a ship? Because you're going to need one if you want to help._

_We have thirty minutes from the time this plan begins. Briefing time._

_All Alliance orphans are implanted with tracers. My chip is located dead center on my left shoulder blade. It's very easy to deactivate, but very painful for me. Plus, after twenty or so minutes, it reactivates._

_All you have to do is get your ship to the roof of this building. I'll meet you there. Have your infirmary prepped. We're going to need to surgically remove the chip. It'll be simple. _

_Don't worry._

"Kind of a stupid plan, ain't it?" commented Jayne.

"We're doing it." Mal said, still staring at the paper.

"Sir?" asked Zoë.

Mal ignored her and looked over to the girl. She met his eyes and he nodded. She walked briskly over to one of the adult soldiers and spoke a few words. The soldier nodded, and she moved inside the building.

"Let's go." Mal growled quietly and the group moved on.

Karla Tedesco walked in a brisk and dignified way to her dormitory. She skillfully hid her elation at the thought of her plan actually working. _She was getting out!_

Karla entered her room and quickly pulled a dusty and battered suitcase out from under the bed. She would use the back ways to get to the roof. No one would see her there. She had done it many times before.

Karla then reached up behind her head and over onto her left shoulder blade. She felt the tracer chip just beneath her skin. With a little force, she deactivated it and let the first wave of pain shock her system.

Moaning quietly, she moved from the room and used one of the barely walked hallways to get to the back staircase.

It was easy enough to get to the roof. All she had to do was wait for her ride. Karla nervously checked her watch. She only had fifteen minutes until the chip would reactivate. She whimpered in a small voice as another shock of pain went through her. Karla's legs bent and she slid down the door, to sit on the floor of the roof.

That's when she saw it. A gleaming Firefly on the horizon. An angel flying in to rescue her.

There was screaming from below as the children and soldiers realized that the Firefly was coming at a very low altitude. Karla stood up and waved to the cockpit. She could have sworn someone waved back to her.

The Firefly came in and the ramp to the cargo bay lowered. The man in the brown coat whom had nodded to her earlier appeared, coming down to help her on board.

Another wave of pain and Karla was sent to the ground. The man ran forward, grasping her right arm and pulling her up. He grabbed her suitcase and threw it aboard, doing nearly the same to Karla.

"Wash, they're on! Take us out." Called a tall, dark-skinned woman into a comm. link in the bay.

"Infirmary's this way, little miss." Whispered Mal gently into her ear. Karla felt the rumble of the Firefly's engine as they flew upward, out of the world.

Karla stumbled into the infirmary, led by Mal. She checked her watch.

"We got five minutes to get this thing outta me." Karla growled, removing her shirt and revealing plain undergarments. Mal looked away quickly and she laughed.

"No time to be a gentleman, Sir. You're going to need a scalpel." She said to him, lying on her belly against the examining table.

"Oh—right!" Mal said. He opened a drawer and pulled out the knife. The woman from the cargo bay and a tall, muscular man came into the infirmary.

"We'll give you something to dull the pain." He said moving to another drawer.

"No time!" growled Karla, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. "Just do it quick!"

Mal brought the scalpel down to her shoulder blade. He cut shallow and Karla winced grabbing the headrest of the operating table with both hands.

"I see it… I think." Mal said after a few minutes of poking around. He feverishly wiped his forehead.

"Grab some pliers and pull it out. Fastish." She said, looking at her watch once more. Two minutes.

Mal began to cautiously wiggle the chip out of Karla.

"Again with the gentle." She growled, "Just pull hard. Don't make it drawn out!"

Mal scowled at her but she poked her watch and he gave a hearty pull on the chip. She screamed in pain, but it was out.

"Smash it! Just crush it!" she groaned, her head falling heavily to rest against the chair.

Mal was flustered, but he tossed the chip down into a sterile dish and released his gun from its holster. He crushed the chip with the blunt end of his pistol.

The girl on the table sighed after seeing the chip in pieces. She slipped off the watch she was wearing and gave it to Mal.

"I wanna throw all the Alliance junk I have out the airlock, if that's alright with you, Sir." She whispered.

"Will they follow?" asked Mal, ignoring her.

"No. They have plenty more just like me. One missing won't matter at all. Thank you."

Mal crouched down so that he was level with her eyes.

"We're gonna give you somethin' to sleep while we patch you up. When you wake, Little Tedesco, we have a boatload of things to talk about."

She nodded and Zoë doped her.

Karla awoke in the same room and the same position she had been doped in. Someone had stitched her wound and put a blanket across her shoulders.

She felt sore all over, as she normally did after deactivating that stupid tracer chip. But she was rid of it now and forever.

There wasn't anyone in the room with Karla. She remembered the brown coated man's last words to her. Storytelling—her favorite.

Karla slid around in the chair until she managed a sitting position. She wrapped the blanket tightly around her torso. She had time, now, to be embarrassed about her shirtless-ness.

She sat in the infirmary. It was a simple room, filled with scary-looking medical appliances and bathed in blue light.

At that moment, brown-coat man entered the infirmary.

"Your awake." He stated. "Good."

"Do you think I could go get some other clothes?" Karla asked, "I don't feel much like wearing these anymore." She gestured to the lower half of her body, which was still clothed in Alliance uniform pants and boots.

He nodded and said, "I'm gonna need a name, first."

"Karla Tedesco." She said, holding out her right hand while her left kept the blanket secure around her chest.

"Malcolm Reynolds." He stated.

"Sounds familiar. Browncoat, maybe? Fight in the war? Meet my dad?"

"In the battle of Serenity Valley, unfortunate enough. Good soldier, your Dad. Bragged about you somethin' fierce." Mal said with a smirk.

Karla grinned ear to ear.

"He said I was a good shot, right? He was always braggin' about my aim!" She seemed generally pleased with the memory. "I knew it would be alright if I asked you for help! I couldn't even place your face but I still knew!" She grinned even wider.

"Are we in space?" she asked quickly, an excited gleam in her eyes.

"The one and only Black. You're traveling on a Firefly. Her name's _Serenity_. I'm her Captain."

"Captain Malcolm Reynolds." She repeated, "_Serenity_...? Never mind. It has a nice ring to it."

"Glad ya' think so. Where abouts are you headed?" Mal asked, pulling a chair from the corner of the room and taking a seat across from her.

"Dunno. Anywhere away." She said, thinking. An odd shine seemed to come to her eyes. "Maybe I could, I dunno, stay here? On the ship? As part of your crew?" she asked hopefully.

Mal looked shocked.

"I don't hire children!"

"You'll find I'm not much of a child, Captain Reynolds."

"And what, exactly, would you do?"

"I'm good with pistols." She muttered.

"I won't be havin' a little girl killin' people!" Yelled Mal.

"I can cook! And clean! What does it matter if I can wield pistols as well?" she yelled, equally loud.

Mal took a few steadying breaths.

"I'll think about it. But you best know, even if I do let you stay, I won't have you killin'."

Mal got up from his chair and walked out only to appear a second later with her suitcase.

"Get dressed and call me back in when you're done. I'll introduce you to the crew."

Karla sorted through all the clothing in the case. Most of it was her mom's. Alliance orphanages didn't exactly let you go clothes shopping. They gave you uniforms. Lots of uniforms. Everything in her case was dusty. Karla barely ever had time to take anything out. She pulled out a pistol, which she was sure would need a lot of maintenance before it would work properly again.

Karla sighed and pulled out clothing that she knew wouldn't fit quite right.

"Ready." Came Karla's voice and Mal stepped back into the infirmary. Mal inspected her style of dress. He somehow knew none of it was hers.

She wore a black button down shirt that had to be at least five sizes to big for her, a dark blue skirt which was also much larger than Karla's waist could accommodate (it was being held up by a tightly notched belt,) and a dark brown bandanna tied over her shoulder-length locks. It clashed horribly with her red-brown hair. Mal also noticed the silvery pistol sitting quietly in its holster on Karla's belt. The holster wasn't properly fixed to her thigh because she was wearing a skirt and unable to fasten the small leather strap around her upper leg.

He peeked around behind her, looking at the open suitcase sitting on the floor of the Infirmary, its contents messily shoved back inside it. Mal noticed that the only article put back neatly was a large brown coat. He shuddered unwillingly.

"I told everyone you woke up. They're waitin' for us in the kitchen."

Mal turned on his heel and Karla followed him on tender bare feet.

Karla entered the kitchen with Mal and felt five degrees warmer. The kitchen was yellowish-orange, with flowers painted on the walls. It definitely had a homey feel to it, this ship.

Karla was woken from her reverie by the sound of Mal's voice.

"Everyone, this is Karla Tedesco. She'll be travellin' with us for a while. Everyone is to be welcomin'," He shot a look at the muscular man Karla had seen earlier, who was sitting at the scrubbed wooden table. "She's offered to earn her keep. Cooking.

"Karla, this is Zoë Washburne, my first mate." Karla waved at the tall woman she recognized from earlier. "Her husband, _Serenity's_ pilot, Wash."

A stocky, blond man waved merrily to her and Karla grinned. She was grinning too much lately.

"Jayne Cobb, our er… Mercenary." Mal said slowly, waiting for her reaction to Jayne's title. Karla didn't seem surprised and when Jayne grinned at her she grinned back. Jayne was the tall, muscular man from earlier.

"Our mechanic, Kaylee Frye." A girl with a round face and bright eyes smiled cheerfully at her.

"And the Ambas—our resident Companion, Inara Serra." Karla was given a beautiful smile from an equally beautiful woman who stood in the corner. Inara looked over to Mal and their eyes met. Karla resisted the urge to say something about it.

"Er..." Said Karla, quite unsure of how the crew would stand with her.

There was an uncomfortable silence as everyone stared at the new arrival. Mal came to the rescue. Sort of.

"I believe an explanation is in order," He said pulling out a chair and pushing Karla down into it. "As to how you conveniently ended up on my ship."

Karla grinned nervously, showing slightly crooked teeth.

"Start from the beginning?" she asked, quietly polite voice going a note higher at the thought of telling nearly complete strangers her entire history.

"If you'd be so kind."

Karla sighed heavily and then began.

"I was brought up by my parents on Regina. When I was six years old, my father signed up with the Independents. Mom wanted to sign up too, but Dad wouldn't let her. Something about not wanting me to grow up without a mother." She scowled at the floor for a moment before continuing.

"When I was nine years old, my mother and I were sent a Wave. And a package."

Mal and Zoë both looked down at the floor. They knew exactly what that meant.

"'Our most sincere condolences.' That's what they said. The package had all o' Dad's stuff in it. Pistol, bandanna, and coat." She gestured to each item in turn, except for the coat, which was still with her suitcase.

"A few months after, Mom got sick. She died. The doctors said heartache..." She didn't make eye contact with anyone for a moment, looking down at the ground.

"All the sudden, Alliance Federal Officers show up, tell me to pack up my few belongings. They took me to the Orphanage.

"So here I am, six years later. All grown up." She finished, and looked up at the crew who stood before her, with her.

"Ain't those places s'posed t' brainwash youngins like you? Make 'em all liking the Alliance?" Jayne asked.

"The rebellious teenage years kinda help with that. There are others like me there. Kids who know what's going on, who want to get out. I'm just one o' the few that actually put t'gether a plan."

Silence fell over the group, as everyone was lost in his or her own thoughts. Karla was the one to break it.

"So, what happens to me now?"


	2. Jayne

Disclaimer: I don't own Firefly.

A/N: Set an hour or three after Meetings.

* * *

"We usually use this room fer storage and whatnot," explained the gruff mercenary as he hauled yet another box up the short ladder to what would become Karla's bunk, "I guess we'll jus' have t' pile all this _fei oo_ in the cargo bay."

"I appreciate the help." Said Karla, who had followed him up the ladder with her own box. "Gotta say, I didn't expect the Captain t' have me clean out my own room."

"Yeah, Mal can be a _pee goo_ sometimes. He's just a bit shooken up, s'all. Only 'spected to do a job and get paid t'day. You an' all the blood kind o' messed his schedule around.

"Somethin' else, don't 'spect me to be so nice as this. T'was Little Kaylee's idea, me to help you with all this," he gestures to the ladder and below it, her room.

Karla grinned and leans against the slanted wall.

Outside of the kitchen was the short hallway upon which branch off the crew's bunks. Farther down the hall was a small staircase leading to the cockpit.

"You don' seem like the kinda guy let's people tell him what to do. Got somethin' goin' with the mechanic?" Karla looks and sounds innocent enough when she says it, but all the same there's a mischievous little smile playing across her lips, which makes Jayne say,

"We're near half-done. You'd enjoy it much if'n I were to leave you to finish off and haul it all to the bay?"

Karla holds her hands up in defeat and climbs back down the ladder.

They finished the work a while later, when most of the crew were asleep.

Karla and Jayne sat in the kitchen, not going to bed out of pure laziness. The mug in front of Jayne was filled with a questionable alcoholic substance, the glass beside Karla holding apple cider.

"How old are you anyway, kid?" Jayne suddenly asked, taking another gulp from his mug.

Karla cocked an eyebrow, but responded all the same. "Fifteen. How old are you?"

Jayne bared his teeth in what would have been a smile, had it not been so intimidating. Karla was undaunted and kept the conversation flowing.

"So, wha' do y'all do here? I mean, like, work."

"Should be askin' the Cap'n that. Mostly smugglin'. There's some killin' sometimes, too. S'what I'm for, guessing."

Karla nodded sleepily, realizing that if she didn't make it to her bunk, the crew would find their new cook asleep at the kitchen table the next morning.

Jayne seemed to notice this, for, as he downed the rest of his liquor, he said, "you should be getting' off to bed now. 'Spect you'll have to be impressing tomorrow with breakfast."

Karla responded through a wide yawn. "X_ie-xie _for all your help t'night. I realize after talking to you… You wouldn't normally spend your night carrying heavy boxes around for nothin'." Karla, raised to be polite, saw her mistake immediately. Jayne was somehow sympathetic towards this, whether it be because he was softened by alcohol, or that he actually realized she was too tired to even see straight.

"Go t' bed already." He rumbled, his hand reaching towards the bottle from which his drink had originated.

Karla stood and put her glass in the sink. She returned to the infirmary and grabbed her suitcase. It was hard to believe everything she had was in that leather case.

Karla passed once more through the kitchen. Jayne was no longer sitting at the table. In fact, he wasn't in the kitchen at all. She found it hard to believe a man so big could be so quiet when moving around.

Karla swept through the kitchen and into the bunk hallway. She pushed against the bit of wall she knew was her door and sighed, relieved, when a low hiss was heard and the ladder to her bunk completed itself.

Once down in the small, empty room she pressed a button located on the console on her wall and listened to her trapdoor close. Karla took the opportunity to look around.

The bunk was dusty from disuse.

The walls were a light purple, almost lilac color. It looked a bit bigger without all of the boxes and crates that had once been stored on the metal floor. The only furnishings were a bed(more of a cot, really), a nightstand, and a sink with a mirror above it and a compartment underneath, which Karla assumed unfolded into a toilet.

She breathed in deeply, memorizing the smell of her new room. And then it struck her. This was her own room. Hers. No one else's. Karla had to share a room back at the Orphanage.

And as a final wave of sleepiness overwhelmed her, Karla placed her suitcase gently on the ground, walked over to her unmade bed, laid down, and fell asleep.

* * *

A/N II: Thanks much to all who reviewed! 


	3. Wash

Disclaimer: I don't own Firefly.

A/N: Set the day-cycle after "Jayne". Pre-series, at the moment.

* * *

Karla woke late the next morning. Her whole body ached much worse than it had yesterday. She made a mental note: tracer-induced internal electric shocks, plus hard labor, equal _pain_.

She sat up and winced as she stretched her back to its full height. There were a few satisfying cracks and Karla was up. She made an attempt to look more presentable using the sink and the mirror above it. In the end she gave up, changed her clothes and pressed the button on her console. The door hissed and opened and Karla climbed up the ladder.

Walking down the now familiar hall into the kitchen, Karla realized she had left the lights on the night before. She cursed under her breath in Chinese and listened intently to see if anyone had woken early that morning. A low humming could be heard from the kitchen and Karla cursed again. _Please, don't be Mal. Please, don't be Mal!_

But, as she crept gingerly into the kitchen's warm glow, Karla found that it was not Mal.

The ship's pilot, Wash, was standing next to the counter, pulling bits of protein paste out of a large bowl and shaping them into biscuits while humming a merry tune.

"'Morning." He said, looking up from his work. "Sleep well? The big lummox didn't give you too much trouble?"

Karla, groggy with sleep and pain, couldn't say much more to Wash's friendly manner than, "Whadawhodamunchins?"

He laughed and stamped another fake biscuit down onto the pan in front of him.

"Jayne. And yeah, I know you're supposed to be the new cook an' all, but what can I say? I got hungry."

Karla gave him a shocked and confused look and he laughed again.

"I invented the half asleep language. Don't ya' think I'd be fluent?"

"Ugh… My brain…." She managed, before slumping down into one of the mismatched chairs around the table.

"Lose too many brain cells when you were talking to Jayne? Happens to everyone he comes in contact with." Wash finished the biscuit molding and wipes his hands on the green coveralls he's wearing. Tossing the tray of protein into the oven, Wash plops down into a chair on the other side of the table.

"As for breakfast this morning, don't worry about it. We realize you went through a lot yesterday, so I volunteered to make breakfast this morning. Just don't tell Mal. As far as he knows, you were up at the crack of starlight making a tasty breakfast through all your pain and exhaustion." He grins cheekily at her, knowing he's done her a favor.

"Thanks," Karla starts, but is shushed by Wash.

"Don't thank me, just make sure there's something yummy waiting for us for dinner."

"What about lunch?" Karla says, though it is muffled, as her head is now face down in her folded arms.

"The crew normally finds food for themselves at lunch," Wash explains, "All you have to make is breakfast and dinner."

A timer dings somewhere in the kitchen and Mal enters the room.

"Sounds like some of breakfast is in the 'done' range." He grunts and looks between Karla and Wash through his blue eyes.

"Right! I ought t' get those." Karla hops up (immediately regretting the sudden movement) and pulls the oven door open. She thrusts open a random cabinet and breathes out happily when she realizes a serving bowl is staring back at her. Karla bends (again, too quickly) and opens the oven door, remembering at the last minute that things in the oven are usually hot and it would be wise to wrap something around her hands to protect them. She straightens up, biscuits in hand, and expertly lets them slide into the waiting serving bowl. One protein biscuit sticks to the pan, but Karla gives it a good jab and soon it's resting with its fellows in the bowl. She turns the knob on the oven to 'Off' and turns around to face a smiling Wash (who gives her a stealthy thumbs-up) and an unwillingly amused Captain Reynolds, who has an eyebrow cocked and a judgmental comment to add.

"Biscuits? That's it?" He walks over to her, and picks up one of the lumpy objects in the bowl.

"If it makes you feel any better, they were made with love."

Mal scowls at her comment.

"Kind of dense aren't they? And there aren't so many, for such a crew as mine. For your first day this is a bit…"

As Mal goes on saying all the things Karla could have done better, Wash seems to be getting redder and redder in the face.

"I think they're fine biscuits, Mal."

The Captain turns to face his pilot, who is now standing.

"Are you kiddin' me, Wash? Lookit, they're all lumpy an'—"

"Well, if you don't like the cook's cooking, than cook 'em yourself!" yelled the stocky man, wagging a biscuit in his Captain's face. Wash then turns on his heel and stalks towards the cockpit, taking a large bite out of the offending food.

Mal turns to Karla, his mouth agape and eyes wide. He looks to her, to where Wash has just disappeared, and back to her.

"What was that about?" He asks her.

Karla shrugs and puts her fist to her mouth in what Mal assumes is a thinking expression. What he doesn't know is, with all the stress and pain and added drama, that fist is the only thing keeping Karla from either going insane and laughing hysterically, or bursting out sobbing and curling up on the floor in the fetal position.


	4. Inara

Disclaimer: Still don't own Firefly.

A/N: Around one in the afternoon, same day as "Wash". I tried to be artsy in this chapter, so that's what that wierdness is.

* * *

It was that afternoon when Karla decided she had thought too much about what she should make for dinner. She needed a break. She wasn't going to get one.

A whole chunk of her childhood had been stolen by the Alliance. Not to mention family members. Karla needed to work things out. Part of that would be cleaning her pistol so it would fire.

The rest of the crew was off doing their respective jobs. Wash in the cockpit, Kaylee in the engine room, Zoë keeping Wash company, Jayne working out in the cargo bay, Mal doing whatever it is a Captain does, and Inara… standing in the kitchen doorway observing Karla cleaning out a very dusty and disused pistol on the crew's dining table.

The prickling sensation on her neck alerted Karla to her audience. She turned her head slowly, painfully stiff neck crackling as she did.

Karla gave the indifferent looking Inara an innocent "Please, don't rat me out" look, to which the Companion smiled.

"Don't worry. You have no idea how many times I have witnessed Mal, Jayne, and Zoë doing this very thing. If the Captain has any problem with it what so ever, you will have me at your defense." Inara's voice was clear and beautiful.

Karla was never either of those things.

"Uh… Thank you."

Inara humored her with a smile and Karla was even more uncomfortable. Rich, talented, and proper people had always made her feel primal.

She giggled nervously and turned back to her gun.

"It's beautiful." Inara said simply, and Karla figured she was talking about the pistol.

Karla nodded, and, now finished un-gumming the inside of the weapon, moved on to polish the outside.

The Companion moved to sit down across from her, red and gold dress rustling against the floor. Karla felt, for a Companion, Inara did not pick up on her obvious discomfort very well.

"Did you buy it yourself?" Inara asks, trying to make eye contact with the girl who most definitely is not.

"No. Did you?" Karla is being rude. She knows it. She knows the Captain would get mighty upset about it. She wants to stop, but feels she can't.

Inara realizes Karla was commenting on her dress and answers softly. "Yes. I found it in this lovely little shop on Persephone."

Inara stops and regains composure.

"How is your first day on _Serenity_ going? I know it can be overwhelming, being away from home—"

"That place was never my home!" Karla overtakes Inara's voice and is so loud and passionate, she forgets and looks up. The woman is waiting; calm and compassionate, and brown eyes meet blue-green ones. Karla suddenly dismisses all thoughts of hating this woman at once. She would be hard to avoid, anyway.


	5. Kaylee

Disclaimer: I do not own Firefly.

A/N: Set immediately after "Inara". I don't do justice Kaylee at all.

* * *

After finishing her talk with Inara and being invited to her shuttle to talk anytime, Karla shoves the now sparkling pistol into its holster and tosses all polishing cloths back down into her bunk.

She decides that stumbling through half the ship blind with pain wasn't a very satisfactory tour, and makes up her mind to walk around and explore.

Since the night before, Karla had pretty much stuck to the kitchen and her bunk. She felt it wasn't her place to walk around and talk like this was her home; her family. Karla's talk with Inara that afternoon had convinced her otherwise. She was staying on the ship, she needed to get used to its crew and her surroundings.

Climbing back up the ladder from her bunk, Karla decided that the first thing she needed to do was figure out which hall went where. She slipped down to the left of her bunk and climbed the small set of stairs to the cockpit.

Wash sat in the pilot's seat, facing out into the inky-blackness. When he heard her, though, he turned and pointed to the co-pilot's chair, which was currently unoccupied.

"So, wha' do ya think?" He asked cheekily, straightening the plastic Tyrannosaur that stood amongst various intimidating buttons.

"Nice." Karla replied stiffly, gesturing out the window, where a myriad of stars shone back. "This is the first place I've really been 'sides the kitchen and infirmary."

"Oh, yeah!" Says Wash, nodding groovily at her from his seat, "We'll have to get Kaylee to take ya on a tour."

Karla twitches internally. "The Captain will have my head, if I'm stealin' his crew from their duties."

"No, no, no problem at all. _Serenity's_ movin' smooth and I was just about to fancy myself a nap with the missus an' Kaylee'd be more 'n happy to take ya around." Wash decides then and gets up. He moves over towards Karla and pulls down a previously unimportant comm. device speaking clearly into it. "Kaylee, Oh Kaylee! We got ourselves a newbie in need of the grand tour. Up for the challenge?"

—_You bet, Wash. I'll be right up—_

And but a moment later, the round face of Kaylee the mechanic pops into Karla's view. Karla jumps up immediately from her seat and Kaylee smiles truly. A smile that reaches her eyes and makes her cheeks glow pink.

"Uh… Hello." Karla attempts.

"Hi!" Squeaks Kaylee and before she knows it, Karla is saying good-bye to Wash and is headed on a guided tour of _Serenity._

It wasn't so very serene.

"These are the guest bunks." Explained Kaylee, sliding open a rice paper door and showing a poorly decorated room. Karla peeks inside and then back to Kaylee, not exactly sure on what to say. Kaylee pulls her along the corridor.

"Where's the ladder go?" Karla asks, looking up the iron ladder in the middle of the hall.

"Up, silly." Kaylee laughs and they move on.

The tour was great, and after a while Karla loosened up and Kaylee didn't seem as annoyingly optimistic. She was really friendly and answered all of Karla's questions.

The last stop was the cargo bay. Kaylee and Karla entered to see Zoe standing by various crates watching the Captain storm up the stairs, with Inara moving similarly in the direction of the shuttles.

"Think you ought t' go take care of that, Kaylee?" Zoe asks as the Captain disappears from view.

"Yeah. You don't mind, do you, Karla?" Kaylee looks hopefully at Karla who waves her hands in a shooing motion. Kaylee scurries off to talk to her best friend. Karla is left with the stiff and silent Zoe.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Cyber cookies to whoever guesses who's next. 


	6. Zoe

Disclaimer: I don't own Firefly.

A/N: Takes place seconds after "Kaylee". And I know Karla's being a bit of a kiss-ass, but hey, she just wants to please. : )

* * *

Who turns out to be not so stiff and silent.

"So, you enjoying your first day on our boat?" Zoe asks the girl as they climb the stairs.

"She's beautiful. A little quirky I think, but..." Karla trails up and looks apologetically at Zoe who gives her a grin.

"'Quirky' is a good word for it. Most of our clients use less... friendly words to describe _Serenity_."

Karla is relieved to find someone personable on the boat who didn't talk so much. It was kind of relaxing.

"Well, they've never sailed on her, have they? They don't have anything to go on with their insults." Karla and Zoe turn into the bunk hallway, and make their way down into the kitchen.

"Sailed on her they haven't. They have seen her land. I remember once a whole piece of landing gear just crunched right off. We're lucky the goods were intact, or we wouldn't have gotten the cash to pay for repairs." Karla laughed and Zoe smiled at the memory.

"Think you could give me a preview of what's on the menu tonight?" Zoe asked.

"Er... Surprise?" Karla laughed nervously.

Zoe grinned and said, "Do you even know where everything is?"

"No?"

Zoe spent the rest of the afternoon showing Karla around her new domain, making sure the new girl understood exactly how to use all of the appliances.


	7. Mal

Disclaimer: Don't own Firefly.

A/N: Set about five hours after "Zoe."

* * *

That night the lights were dimmed in the kitchen. Of course, Kaylee's smile brightened it up enough. Everyone was seated around the table.

"You almost done in there?" Jayne asked, setting his cup down on the table heavily, "I'm starving away t' nothin' over here."

Wash snorts into his water, to which his loving wife gives a laugh. They're holding hands under the table. Mal is sitting at the head of the table, surveying his crew while having a civilized conversation with Inara, the events of that afternoon apparently forgotten.

Kaylee sat next to Jayne, fidgeting nervously in her seat and looking over her shoulder to survey the cook behind the counter.

Karla bustled around the kitchen, pulling large, round meat-flavored protein balls out of the oven, straining pasta, and tossing real vegetable salad. A loaf of bread was waiting to be cut on the counter. The young cook let out a deep breath, stirred the red sauce once more, and began to set things out on the table.

Wash let out a whoop and everyone jumped into action. Karla sat down on Zoe's other side.

Mal seems indifferent to Karla's cooking; neither pleased nor disappointed. She shrugged and piled spaghetti and lumpy "meatballs" onto her plate, adding salad and bread last minute.

The crew laughed about their experiences that day. They shared stories with each other. It was like a family. Karla felt somehow left out. She sat quietly and ate until she had cleaned her plate.

Dinner came to a close. Everyone was pleasantly full and cheery. Wash stood up. It looked like he was drunk on food-goodness.

"I'd like to propose a toast!" He said with a grin. "To our newest little renegade, Karla. And her very fine cooking." He turned to Karla, who was now very red in the face and slowly sliding down in her chair. "May you make many more delicious dinners. And not be shot as often as Jayne is." Zoe slapped her husband softly on the arm, and the table laughed. Karla noticed Mal had taken a drink at Wash's toast and muttered a soft, "Here, here."

Something else was on her mind, though.

"Um... How often does Jayne get shot?"

* * *

"Shouldn't you be asleep?"

Karla turned around to see who had addressed her. It was the Captain. He strode up to where she was sitting, her legs swinging off the catwalk.

"Sorry." She said quickly, starting to get up. He shakes his head and pushes her back down. Captain Reynolds sat down next to her.

"I guess I'm kinda relishing the fact I don't gotta take orders from anyone now. We had a curfew back at the Orphanage." Karla looks out over the cargo bay.

"That ain't true." Mal corrects. Karla looks up and meets his eyes, looking unsure. "I'm the captain of this boat. You take orders from me, or Zoe if I'm down and out. As for curfew, there isn't one. You jus' make sure you get enough sleep to keep you alert. Never know what might happen on this boat." He states the last sentence in an undertone, and Karla is unsure whether she was supposed to hear it or not.

"Yes, Sir." Karla says automatically. Mal puts a hand up.

"Nobody 'cept Zoe calls me 'Sir'. Kaylee on occasion to tease, but no one else. You can call me Captain. Or maybe even Mal, if I'm in a good enough mood."

Karla nods.

"It's weird..." Says the girl beside the Captain, "The Orphanage was so much bigger than this ship, it made me feel small and cramped at the same time. _Serenity's_ tinier than that place, and I still feel small. And yet, at the same time I feel..." She trails off, blushing pink a bit.

"Free." Mal states. They look at each other and Karla nods again.

"Does that mean I get to stay?" She asked tentatively.

"Yeah. You are a fine little cook. I don't think I could leave you out on some moon, anyway. Lot of bad folk out in this 'verse. Wouldn't leave anyone alone to deal with 'em."


	8. Book

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.

A/N: Takes place about two and a half months after "Mal." Review, if you like.

* * *

"Can I come?" 

"No."

Karla rolled her eyes and scurried back to sit with Kaylee by the ship.

"Cap'n wants passengers for the extra cash." Kaylee says, "I like 'em for all the stuff they tell. I like meeting new people."

"New people scare me." Karla says simply.

They watch as an older man pulls his cart along the busy Persephone market, looking at all the different ships taking passengers.

"They do not." Says Kaylee with a roll of her eyes. She's watching the man with interest now.

"Do too. You never know who you can trust these days and—" She's cut off by Kaylee, who is giving her a "shh" sign.

"You're gonna come with us." Kaylee says, presumably to the man walking with all his luggage.

"Excuse me?" He asks politely.

"You like ships. You don't seem to be looking at the destinations. What you care about is the ships, and mine's the nicest." Kaylee smiles brightly because she knows it to be true. Karla watches the exchange with interest. She always wondered how Kaylee got to be so good at reading people.

"She don't look like much." The old man challenged.

"Well, she'll fool ya'. You ever sail in a Firefly?" Kaylee twirls her multicolored parasol idly, and Karla smiles kindly at the man.

"Long before you were crawling. Not an aught three, though. Didn't have the extenders, tended to shake." The man looks curiously up at _Serenity_ and Kaylee gets up and converses with him privately for a few minutes.

Soon the pair come over, and Karla is introduced to Shepard Derrial Book.

"Karla, why don't you help Shepard with his luggage and then give him the room number?" Karla is always impressed at how Kaylee makes orders seem like suggestions.

"Me? Really? Shiny."

Karla takes the Shepard's cart and secures it in the cargo hold before taking him up and assigning him a room in the passenger dorm.

"So, are you and Miss Kaylee related?" Shepard asks.

"No, but we act like sisters most times." Karla grins and opens the rice paper door for Shepard Book to see. "This is where you'll be sleeping. I'll take you up to the galley next."

Shepard Book nods and gives her a warm smile. "So who are you related to on the ship? Obviously you are too young to work here."

Karla's smile freezes, and she falters slightly in step before controlling herself and thinking fast on her feet.

"Oh, yeah, right. Um... Well, you're right, I'm too young to be employed without parental consent. Um... The C-captain." She forces out, and thinks guiltily on what Mal would say when he found out about her alibi.

"He's your father?" Book asks.

"N-no! My god-father." Karla comes up with quickly, and gives herself a mental pat on the back.

"Oh, I see. So your parents are...?" Book looks at her with sympathy, and Karla feels this is going well for what it could be.

"They're dead. My father was lost to the war and my mother died shortly afterward." Karla pulls off the teary-eyed look with ease, as it's partially real.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, my child."

Karla smiles at him, "Don't be; it's not as if you shot him, right?" She laughs and doesn't notice the Shepard's expression falter.


End file.
